Early Days
by illuminata79
Summary: Having moved in with Evelyn, Mick is still reeling from his wartime experience and has a hard time settling into his new life. A look back at the early days, way before "My Miracle" takes place.


When Mick had finally moved in with me, I savoured every second with him. The mere touch of his hand on mine sufficed to make my skin tingle all over, the smallest kiss on the nape of my neck gave me shivers from head to toe. For weeks I couldn't shake the feeling that it was all just a dream and I would wake up any minute to face the grim reality that the war had claimed his life and I was alone, the other half of the large bed cold and empty beside me, as it had been all the time since I came back here.

At the same time it was heartbreaking to see him struggle with everyday tasks you usually don't waste any thought on. He flatly refused any help with washing or dressing himself, and I respected his need for privacy there, but even things like making a cup of tea had become something of a challenge since he could hardly keep his balance without the crutches. More than once I watched him with tears in my eyes, but I hesitated to impose my assistance on him after he had been very cross with me for trying. "Oh please, I'm not completely useless", he had snapped at me and I had flinched at my own stupidity. I should have known him well enough to sense that he did not want any help unless there really was no other way, but at the same time my heart ached to see him like that. I couldn't shake the memories of his former self, tanned and energetic, elegantly diving off the edge of his boat or briskly walking back from the beach with some heavy load carried casually on one shoulder, a cigarette dangling carelessly from one corner of his mouth.

Still, those first weeks had many wonderful moments. I had finished my book presentation tour, and there were two months to go until I was due to start lecturing at university, so there was plenty of time for just the two of us. Most days we went out for a walk through the nearby park because Mick couldn't stand being trapped indoors. Our slow progress along the little lake was, of course, a far cry from the permanent activity that had filled his days back on the island, but hardly anything could make his haunted face light up more than the simple pleasure of being out in the fresh air and hazy sunlight of early autumn.

Staying outside as long as we could, we'd usually have a late dinner and then sit on my old sofa side by side for a while before going to bed. Mick had never been much of a talker which certainly hadn't changed (and if he did want to talk, this happened mostly during our walks, as if the open air cleared his head and loosened his tongue), but he had taken to reading old classics during the long months he'd been in hospital, and I loved grabbing a book for myself and just feeling him near me while I read. We spent many evenings thus occupied, often reaching out for each other at some point to share a soft kiss or a gentle caress.

We didn't go any further in the first weeks, somehow neither of us dared to, nor did we speak of it. I knew he was struggling with his brutally changed physique as he always made sure I didn't see him fully naked, so I didn't want to push things, and he seemed to be quite comfortable with that for the time being.

At first that was sufficient for me, too, so happy was I to have him back, yet as time passed, I yearned for more, longed to make love to him again after such a long time.

One rainy afternoon, when I found him stretched out on the sofa with his eyes closed as I walked into the living-room, desire rushed through me like a hot wave. I knelt down to kiss him, first very softly on the eyelids, which made him smile gently, then on the beautiful curve of his upper lip. Half sitting up, he responded with another kiss, hard and hungry, running one hand through my hair towards the back of my neck, determinedly pulling my face closer.

I slipped my hand into his loose shirt, tracing one finger down his side, slowly back up towards his broad chest, playfully circling his nipples. He gave a little groan, and I ran my hand further down to where his strong reaction to my little caresses had become obvious. For a moment, I rested my head there, feeling the hard bulge against my cheek.

Then, without thinking, I undid his fly and seized the waistband of his trousers.

"No!"

I was totally dumbfounded at his loud and startled cry and only realized what I had been about to do when I felt him grab me by the hands to stop me. Tears were stinging my eyes. I looked at him and felt my face flush.

He had sat up straight and was staring at me in horror. His eyes seemed to have turned the dark grey of the skies before a thunderstorm. "Please … don't …", he gasped. "I don't know if I … if I can still … do that."

"You don't know if you don't try", I said, sounding way more perky than I felt. "It certainly felt like you can."

He shook his head, mouth firmly set. "I can't. Sorry. I thought I wanted to but … don't make me, will you?" He let go of my hands, and I could merely nod, staring back at him for a moment as if hypnotized, then sitting down on the floor, leaning against the edge of the sofa, trembling and suddenly feeling very cold.

Burying my face in my hands, I wondered why my bold advance had provoked such a violent outburst. This was so unlike the Mick I thought I knew. Had I triggered some kind of awful memory? I knew so little about him, about his personal history. He didn't speak much of his family or his childhood and virtually never about the war. I didn't even know exactly how he had lost his leg. Had there been other injuries that might prevent him from having a normal sex life again, or had I done something that caused him pain? Or was it all just his tortured psyche?

Oh, Mick, I thought. What have they done to you that you won't even let me make love to you again?

I don't know how long I sat like that, feeling lost and helpless, with him so close by and still so far away. The silence that was normally filled with unspoken understanding now towered between us like an invisible but solid wall. I feared I had destroyed something precious and tender by acting too precipitously, and I wasn't sure if I'd get a chance to set it right again. Had I screwed everything up in one single moment of lust and desire?

The tears I had managed to hold back earlier now started to roll down my cheeks, and I just let them, making no attempt to wipe them away.

And then there was his hand, hesitantly touching my shoulder, and his hoarse voice, barely more than a throaty whisper. "I'm sorry, Evelyn. I'm so sorry. It's not your fault. It's not that I don't want … I just cannot ..."

"It's okay, we don't have to …", I began.

"But … you know … if you can't live with what I am now, I understand that, really. I haven't got much to offer you. You are free to go at any time if you feel you can't bear living with a cripple who's not even able to satisfy you in bed any more. You don't have to stay around because you think you're obliged to. I can manage on my own, you know."

"Oh yes, Mick, I'm sure you can."

I had meant this to sound sarcastic, as my first reaction to his words was a rush of anger, but it came out in a toneless whisper when my voice wavered and failed, as fury mixed with sadness at that fatalistic attitude of his. He had never been like that, and I so wished that I could give him his old self-confidence back, could make him feel desired and loved and valuable again.

I took a deep breath and swallowed my tears, summoning all my strength so my voice wouldn't falter again. I got up and turned to face him.

"And I'd happily walk out on you if you really were as useless and off-putting as you make it sound. Try to get it into that stubborn head of yours that I'm here with you because I _want to_ and I don't care how many legs you've got as long as you are _alive!_" I had spoken louder than intended, almost shouting to make my point. "The only thing I couldn't possibly bear is a life without you!"

He said nothing, just looked at me, thoughtful and a little disbelieving – whether at my words or at my furious tone, I didn't know. At least this dreadful shadow had vanished from his eyes.

I looked back at him evenly, without blinking, and finally a tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Well, if you say so – I'm not likely to run away any time soon, aren't I?"

I couldn't help grinning, relieved that his wry sense of humour was making an appearance for the first time since we'd been reunited. I had always found his making fun of himself in that self-deprecating way very endearing and now hoped it would help him cope.

"No, you aren't, Mick Carpenter. And that's just as well."

… to be continued …


End file.
